OK, this made me cry very hard

To My Friends: Humans and Dogs alike (ok, even cats):

I got this email today from a friend and thought I'd re-print this here. For all dog owners this is sure to touch your heart on so many levels. Go play with your pet tonight--we are only with you for a short time. And always have that childlike simplicity at hand.
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There is a God in the Post Office.
This is one of the kindest things I've ever experienced. I have no way to know who sent it, but there is a beautiful soul working in the dead letter office of the US postal service.

Our 14 year old dog, Abbey, died last month. The day after she died, my 4 year old daughter Meredith was crying and talking about how much she missed Abbey. She asked if we could write a letter to God so that when Abbey got to heaven, God would recognize her. I told her that I thought we could so she dictated these words:

Dear God,

Will you please take care of my dog? She died yesterday and is with you in heaven. I miss her very much. I am happy that you let me have her as my dog even though she got sick.

I hope you will play with her. She likes to play with balls and to swim. I am sending a picture of her so when you see her. You will know that she is my dog. I really miss her.

Love, Meredith.

We put the letter in an envelope with a picture of Abbey and Meredith and addressed it to God/Heaven. We put our return address on it. Then Meredith pasted several stamps on the front of the envelope because she said it would take lots of stamps to get the letter all the way to heaven. That afternoon she dropped it into the letter box at the post office. A few days later, she asked if God had gotten the letter yet. I told her that I thought He had.

Yesterday, there was a package wrapped in gold paper on our front porch addressed, 'To Meredith , 'in an unfamiliar hand. Meredith opened it. Inside was a book by Mr. Rogers called, 'When a Pet Dies.' Taped to the inside front cover was the letter we had written to God in its opened envelope. On the opposite page was the picture of Abbey & Meredith and this note:

Dear Meredith,

Abbey arrived safely in heaven.

Having the picture was a big help. I recognized Abbey right away.

Abbey isn't sick anymore. Her spirit is here with me just like it stays in your heart. Abbey loved being your dog. Since we don't need our bodies in heaven, I don't have any pockets to keep your picture in, so I am sending it back to you in this little book for you to keep and have something to remember Abbey by

Thank you for the beautiful letter and thank your mother for helping you write it and sending it to me. What a wonderful mother you have. I picked her especially for you.

I send my blessings every day and remember that I love you very much.

By the way, I'm easy to find, I am wherever there is love.

Love,
God

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Now go get some tissues.

Peace to Abby, Meresith and her mom today. I hope you will soon adopt a new friend.

Love,

Haze

Cranium Licking Good

I think that should be Dad's new marketing campaign for himself. He's a little depressed today so I hope this cheers him up. He's going to a friend's funeral and is having a small conflict with someone who seems to always have a problem with him.

Is that you? Or a big pile of sh*t?

So we came home the other night and mom and dad smelled something in the house that frankly had the distinct smell of poop! So of course they look at me. Why am I the first to blame? I never poop in the house unless some dumb human (usually a dog sitter) waits too long before taking me on a walk.

So anyway--they are looking all around the house to no avail! Vindicated!

Mom then thought the worst: "Maybe Mike (dad) has B.O.?"

She informed dad of this suspicion after she found the actual culprit--dog poop on the bottom of HER OWN sandal!

Dad also feels vindictated--and he wanted me to tell you--and I can attest to this--that he's never had B.O. in his entire life!

How do you get that poop off of a good shoe you ask. The Poop Report --I kid you not--tells you exactly how not to do it.

My secret plan is working

Aunt Barbara has gotten rid of two of the three cats she had in her home. Perhaps I can soon return to Camp Healy to spend time with her. I wonder how I can get rid of that last cat?

In August Aunt Gloria --a new member to the Haze Hayes dog sitting clan is going to take care of me for a week! Awesome! Mom and Dad are very relieved.

I had a nice day with Dad and Mom yesterday--just a lazy day snuggling on the couch and helping dad read a book he has to review (on Monday--Yikes!)

I'd also like to wish congrats to Dawn and Matt(pictured, right)--Dawn is a longtime friend of mom's and they are so happy to see her married to such a great guy!

The Irish have Class

On tonight's walk Dad and I ran into two couples.

Our first couple was in front of Sean Og's Pub and were quietly flirting with each other on the steps when the young lady of course, took a shine to me. She started petting me when her Irish suitor said to Dad:

"Friend, this young lady told me that when she was 18 she voted for George Bush. Did you vote for Bush?"

Dad: "Hell no! I'd rather chew my left arm off than do that!"

Guy: (Laughs) Thank you (gets up and shakes dad's hand).

Girl: "I was 18 what did I know? But wait a minute who was I supposed to vote for? John Kerry?"

Dad: "Yes! That's exactly who you were supposed to vote for!"

Guy: "Even the dog knew that!"

Now while I did know that, I also am slightly insulted that he thinks that perhaps I would be that dumb. PUL-LEASE. Even us dogs are smart enough to not send other dogs to war over something dumb like oil! Booze and politics--two things that don't always go well together. Regardless, I hope that despite their differences in politics that they can put those aside and hook up.

The Irish really hate George Bush and when Dad and Mom went to Ireland it was the most asked question they got: "What do you think of that George Bush?" They can't believe that we elected him twice.

Our second couple of the evening was Brian and Tracy and they were a delighful Irish pair; smoking in front of The Dugout pub. Thick brougues on them! My Grandpa has a brougue but it's not as thick as theirs was--or maybe I just don't notice his as much.

I have to say the Irish are so friendly. It's what I love about Grandpa the most. Everyone seems to get along with him. Tracy and Brian had the same qualities.

Tracy: "Oh Bri...look at the cute dog. I usually like big dogs but he's gorgeous."

Brian: Shakes dad's hand and introduces himself and pets me.

Tracy also introduced herself. Dad picked me up so they could get a closer look. I immediately wanted to be held by Tracy because I simply love the company of women.

Tracy: "Oh he's class!"

Now there's an expression that I never heard but really liked being called. "He's class." She kept repeating it over and over and offered me dozens of kisses. Brian had a look on his face that couldn't believe that I was getting more action than he was.

Tracy: "Can I keep him?"

Dad: "I'm afraid not."

Whew! I thought the worst there for a minute. Tracy is very nice but I'm part of Dad's family at this juncture. I didn't want to have to prove myself again to someone new. She might freak out if I pee on a comforter or soemthing.

They asked a bunch of the basic questions about me which I will answer here for all those interested:

1) Q: "What's his name?"
A: Haze. I was named that before I was adopted by the Hayes' and they believed I was meant to be their dog.

2) Q "What kind of dog is he?"
A: I am a pure breed Chihuahua.

3) Q: How old is he?
A: I am nearly 3 (On October 13)

4) Q: Does he stay in the house most of the time?
A: Yes indeed. I like being a "house dog" and nothing pleases me more than sitting on the couch with my mom and dad and being stroked, licking dad's head, or curling up with mom.

5) Q: Can I keep him?
A: The Irish may have charm, but I'll stick with my Irish-American Dad and my Italian-American Mom for now.


So to our first couple and to the charming Brian and Tracy--raise another pint for me--your new pal, Haze (pictured here with my two favorite Irishmen--Dad and Grandpa). Hope to see you on another night.

Googling Dog

I love my t-shirt which makes me a walking advertisement for my dad's book. Perhaps my book will be called "Googling Dog."

Happy 150th to the Paulists

It's the 150th anniversary of the Paulist Fathers! Their founder, Isaac Hecker wanted to Evangelize America and broke away from The Redemptorists (another order) and asked the Pope to let him start a new religious community and he was granted permission to do so. Doggie prayers are always said to Fr. Hecker to help those in need--human or canine.

So mom and dad are going to a big party for the Paulists in Washington, DC. I wish I could go but it's a bit too far for me. So Aunt Jill gets to hang out for the second weekend in a row. I'll miss dad but he won't be gone for long. In July he goes to Australia for 14 days---(Sniff)---say it ain't so.

I may be too depressed to blog for the next few days so please pray for the Paulists and for my mom and dad for safe travels and that he gets back to me soon. Oh, say Hi to Uncle Brett (Fr. Brett Hoover--dad's first boss) for me and tell him that I'd love for him to come visit again soon.

And Dad thought I was bad...

So my dad's colleague Sean Lansing from the Center for Ministry Development has a huge Golden Retreiver, Gus (right), as well as, a new wife, Beth.

So in the backyard Sean's dog has found a nice new patch of grass which he loves to roll in. The downside is that the spot he rolls in makes him smell like poop! Ewwww!

There's nothing in that patch of grass that's discerable with the human eye(and certainly not with doggie eyes)--most likely it's rabbit droppings beneath the surface of the soil that's causing the poopy smell--but for some reason Gus loves rolling right in that particular spot.

So thinking that he's the Alpha Male of the house, Sean has to wash Gus simply because he decides to behave better for him than his new wife. Even though we dogs all know that no human could ever really boss us around. But Beth was at least able to wash a good deal of Gus while Sean was off at a conference giving a presentation. So the stink smell left him after a mini-bath.

Right after that bath--what did Gus do? He took off like a shot right for....

You guessed it...that poopy spot of grass. And away he rolled. What a smart dog!

While doing his presenation Sean received this text message from the new wifey:

"Gave Gus bath...then he rolled in shit again...can't find this shit...stinky dog awaits you. Love u!"

Ah marriage...filled with all kinds of encounters. The love lasts even through stinky dogs and rabbit poo.

Needless to say--you'd never catch me rolling in rabbit crap. I prefer to rub up against NYC garbage bags thank you very much!

Best wishes to the newly married Lansings and to Gus--make sure you let them know that it's your house and that you just let them live there.

Sometimes I just go bonkers!

So I was on a leisurely walk this morning when I saw (Gasp) another dog behind us. I began my growl to defend my territory and started the lunge. Dad tugged on my leash and gave me the "leave him" command and I obeyed nicely for a time.

However...

What dad didn't see was the little Bichon Frise coming across the street. That little Bitch freaked me out and came right up to me without any warning. How dare she--how forward! Next thing you know she'll want to sniff my butt--and I don't do that on a first date!

So I gave a quick growl and SNAP! Off I went, ballistic...paws flying and teeth gnashing. I didn't get to bite her but I gave her a good swat with my claws.

I felt bad afterwards. I know that's not nice or polite. But she asked for it! My first owner never brought other dogs around me and now I just get all out of sorts around other dogs. I'm such an introvert! Can't I just stay home and sit on the couch and watch the Today Show?

Speaking of Today--I'm going to miss Tim Russert. Did you see Dad's article on Russert? It made me cry.

Anyway, Dad told me to say sorry to Ms. Bichon. So I apologize. Aunt Laura the dog trainer friend is going to be making a visit to try to help me further with my problem.

Good news though--I finally do have a kind of doggie friend. There's a big goofy lab who is older and who can tolerate me and I him. She sits behind a fenced in area in the neighborhood and dad brings me by and I bark at first but then calm down and sit near the fence and get a few good sniffs in. I'm doing it! I'm doing it! Now if I could only do it with other dogs!

Happy Father's Day

So, I don't really know who my doggie-daddy is but I have to say that my "dad", at least the human one is simply the top dog (pun intended)!

Mom and I went out and found him a very cool card that said "From the Dog" and simply had a dog asking the question:

Who's a good dad? Whoooooo's a good dad? You are! You are!

While dad and mom don't have any children of their own at this point in their lives, I hope I can give them at least some of those "parental" feelings that they long for--especially dad--on this day.

Dad and Mom are flying home from New Orleans and I've heard that dad was pleasantly surprised to find a small token of my affection in this bag. Somehow (and let me tell you, this was not easy) I was able to open up his suitcase and throw a gift bag with a 3/4 baseball shirt into it that said: "Me and my Chihuahua: Friends Furr-Ever!"

Mom has no idea how I was able to open the bag with my little paws, nor does she remember me leaving the house to go shopping. I'm a sneaky little pup! I actually bought it the same way everyone else does shopping these days: online! Cafe Press can make just about anything!

So Dad, I hope you and Grandpa too have a great day. They'll be lots of head-licks when you get home tonight!

Love, Your good boy,

Haze the Dog

My dog is not Canadian

So Dad had lunch with an old high school buddy--who he never knew was interested in religious matters but is now a Lutheran Pastor. They shared funny ministry stories about crazy things and people that they've encountered but dad's friend (who we'll keep anonymous to protect those in this story) took the prize with this story.

The good Pastor was awakened at some God-awful hour by one of his parishioners. It seems while she was in Canada with her dog on vacation, her dog died on the trip.

So what does she do? (wait for it...)

She wraps the dog in bubble wrap in puts him in a box! Then the following conversation ensued at the border:

Customs Agent: "What's in this box ma'am?"

Lady: It's my dog.

Customs Agent: "You put your dog in a box?! That's cruel! And it's against the law."

Lady: "But officer, my dog is dead!"

Customs agent: "What? You put your dead dog in a box? And now you want to bring him over the boarder?"

Lady: "Yes sir. I wrapped him up in bubble wrap to protect his body and I'll dispose of him when I get home."

Customs agent: "Lady! You can't bring a dead dog from Canada into the United States!"

Lady: "But the dog isn't FROM Canada!"

Customs Agent: "You cannot cross the boarder with a dead dog! Next!"

You can't make this up folks:

So what does the kind lady do next. The most logical thing she could think of: She called her pastor--dad's friend.

His response: "Well......(long pause)....
I suppose you could cremate him or bury him there."

Lady: "But I don't want to do that!"

Pastor: (desperately trying not to laugh or be annoyed) "OK why don't you mail him home?"

So that's what she did. What can the poor postman be thinking?

He was a lot nicer than I would be--and I'm a dog sympathetic to the mourning of an owner who just lost her best friend. I think I would've told her to start digging.

So hereby let it be known--Mom...Dad...if I should ever die when we're on vacation it would be perfectly OK with me if you leave me in another country. Just take a clay paw print of me to remember me by!

I'm a Hot Dog!

Break out the mustard! The temperature is hitting the 90 mark today and I've been sad because Dad is in Boston and returns today. I hope he had a good retreat!

I know Aunt Jill is coming to hang out with me this weekend--so I hope it's a lot cooler. Dad will be home soon to play with me and I can hardly wait. Mom told him not to take me out for more than 10 minutes because it's really hot and I was panting pretty heavily yesterday. I came home and just laid out on the floor where it's nice and cool. But I like being outside so maybe we'll have a compromise.

Cold water please! And make mine a double!

A tree falls in Queens

Walking last night a large tree had fallen right across 60th Street by the Railroad over two cars that were just totaled. No pics anywhere on the net and dad didn't have a camera. Lots of cops and fire trucks.

I don't go up that street a lot but I had just been there yesterday. Whew! Sometimes it just makes ya wonder about the law of averages. I walk past there last night and I could've been one squished Chihuahua!

Anyway...I hope everyone was OK and the car damage was all that went wrong.

Obie the Cat

Far be it from me to honor cats at any point in time but occasionally I hear about a cat that I would get along with splendidly. Obie the Cat (pictured, right) who was the pet of the famed Rocco Palmo of the Whispers in the Loggia Blog passed away some time ago and I must've missed that. I usually check the pet death notices daily--just to make sure I'm not in them. Dad thinks I must be Irish being so morbid and all.

But Obie sounded really cool and a lot like your resident Chihuahua. So today I raise my water dish to toast Obie the Cat and deem that cats can indeed sometimes be cool.

Note I said sometimes. The No Cats Allowed sign isn't coming down anytime soon. And they prevent me from going to Camp Healy which has now been overtaken by two cats.

Sorry goes out to the Rocc-Star. His blog is awesome if you are interested in the inside track on the Vatican and all things of a priestly nature--which as you know my Dad is fascinated with.

Firefighters and Rain

So on our walk tonight we got as far as the Saints and Sinners Bar and were just about to cross the street when we heard a voice say:

"You gotta come over here, you can't cross the street yet!"

Smoking in front of the bar (ironically) was a female firefighter who was a certified dog lover. She had two dogs: One a chihuahua mix which is almost as cool as me (I'm a pure bred) and another Japanese Kai (I think) who somehow co-exist perfectly--much to my surprise. If I lived with another dog I think I'd be in a constant state of fear. I just can't deal.

Anyway, since I've never met a blonde that I didn't like, I let her pet me and enjoyed every minute of the attention. Dad naturally told me that blonde firefighters never came up to him before he owned me--and now that they do, Dad lives in a constant state of fear of Mom. Hee-hee, I'm such a troublemaker. Dad would never cheat on Mom, but it's fun to tease her a bit.

Anyway, Dad was told by the firefighter:

"You're a big man for walking a little dog like him."

So that made both of us feel good. And indeed he is.

We said our good-byes as it started to rain and dad gave her my business card for this blog. I don't think I caught your name Ms. Firefighter, but I should've said thanks for your heroic work day in and day out and for giving such a valuable service to the city. Dad's firfighter friend Tom Cullen died in the 9-11 disaster and most of my Grandpa's friends are firefighters so folks like you garner in the ultimate respect in our house.

We got drenched on the way home as the sky just opened. Dad and Mom wrapped me up in a towel and I got toasty with them on the couch.

All in all not a bad way to spend an evening.

Hey if you have pictures of your dog and want to say hi to us--you can email me at hazehayes@bustedhalo.com
and we'll have a nice conversation online here at this blog. Or just leave some comments below.

I Coulda Been a Star

Mom and Dad say I'm much cuter. You be the judge. Dad can we go see this?

Uncle Dan

So Dad caught up with an old friend for dinner last night and then he stopped in just to see me! Awesome! A new friend! I always like having new people come by epecially those who like doggies!

So as Uncle Dan sat on the couch I saw my opportunity and jumped on his lap and then couldn't resist licking his face. Uncle Dan is cool about it too and let me lick away almost like I do with Dad. Here's a snapshot of me and my new buddy.

Dad's Song

So sue him--dad sings to me. Last night we watched "Don't Forget the Lyrics" and I swear Dad should go on that show. He knows a good deal of lyrics for one reason or another. But he picks me up and dances with me--sometimes by holding my paws and sometimes by holding me up over his head and dancing. It's fun.

Mom thinks dad is crazy but I think she's jealous because he doesn't dance with her as much--although last night he did sing her the song Endless Love--which brought a tear to my eye.

Dad's such a sap--but he's a nice sap who gets emotional over something like little old me and Mom too. He could be worse.

Dad got new thank you cards

And they have my picture with him on it! How cool! Cafepress can make anything can't they?

Tonight I was told I was gorgeous by two blonde Irish women who couldn't get enough of me in front of the Starting Gate pub. Dad gave me "that look" again. The one that says "where the hell were you when I was single?"

But then when he came home he found Mom really touched that he made those thank you cards for them. Mom is so happy that dad really loves me because she gave me to him. And I guess I make him happy--even when I pee on comforters.

I'm going to see if he wants to snuggle during sportcenter now.

Probably not a good idea on all counts

We dogs don't care to lay blame on anydog or anyone and today is no different but here's today's BadDog/BadOwner Situation.

So Mom and Dad fed me and walked me early yesterday (3:30 instead of 6:30) and went to the movies: Sex and the City is a good movie BTW. They came home and took me out for about an hour at 7:30 before the rain started coming down in buckets and they nicely raced me inside.

Now usually I get another walk at the very end of the night at 10P or 11P--whenever dad feels up to it. But because I had already been walked at 7:30 they didn't think I needed another walk.

Bedtime came and dad put me in my crate at midnight. At 3:30 I had that urge. The urge to pee and also to poop. I wasn't about to let loose in my crate--I'd rather die. So I banged around in the crate, like I usually do at about 6A to let Dad know I want to wake up.

So he lets me out and a race to my wee-wee pad and proceed to take a merciful poop. Ahhhhhh. I then ran out into the living room and the feeling to pee was so overwhelming. I thought Dad might come and take me out but he fell asleep again. So I walked back into the bedroom and scratched at the bed. He got up. Many times we sleep together on the couch in those sleepy morning hours until Mom gets up and then we all eat together and somebody walks me.

But today, I raced ahead of dad and when I got to the couch annoyed that it was taking him so long to get into the living room...I had an accident on the comforter that Dad smartly puts on the couch to protect it from the likes of me. It was hanging down close to the floor so I just lifted my leg and let loose on the comforter and onto the floor. Dad walked into the living room and stepped near the couch right into my pee. "Uuuuggggggh! HAZE!"

Let's just say Dad was awake at that point.

After cleaning up the living room and replacing my pooped on pad Dad stuffed the comforter in a garbage bag and they washed it the next day.

Meanwhile, Dad didn't confine me with my mess--but warned me that the next time he will.

I guess I better watch my step. I feel bad but sometimes I just have to pee. I know the wee-wee pad is used for that so I'm sitting with mom and dad right now and as you can see I'm a little sad.